Karma
by 77Steph
Summary: Edward Cullen is the aimless son of a nobleman in 1840s England. His newly acquired copy of the Kama Sutra and attraction to the daughter of the new magistrate collide for a tormenting ordeal. Will Edward tame his desire and find lasting happiness?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Homecoming**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer. The Kama Sutra is part of the public domain. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Foremost on my mind was the growing pain in my backside. I was bouncing down a rutted highway on the way back home as I suddenly found myself embracing the floor of my family coach. A hail of paper and ink followed me. Books, papers, wrapped parcels, quill pens, and my now empty inkwell were scattered on the floor of the coach with me – all of us underneath my overstuffed traveling valise.

_Curses on the road and this coach_, I thought… _Hell, curses on my damned luck for that matter… and my cursed life! N_o sense in holding back now that I was cursing. The frown I wore before my tumble deepened as I waited for the stars to clear from my eyes. A quick mental inventory told me I was unharmed – just stunned.

I picked myself up as the carriage lurched back to rights and slowly collected the most treasured remainders of my life as a scholar. I attempted to repair most of the damage to my appearance. I removed my ink stained coat – thankfully from a few Seasons ago, a bit tight across my muscular shoulders and ready to be retired. I ran my long, ink-stained fingers though my ever-present mess of hair trying like usual to smooth the locks into order – unsuccessfully. My newly bespeckled trousers stayed on; I did not relish the thought of my valet or a footman finding me in my underclothes when the coach stopped.

As I bent and continued to restore my surroundings, one particular parcel caught my eye. It was addressed to _Edmund_ Cullen; an error that added to my irritation. My name is _Edward_, Edward Anthony Cullen. The misappellation had probably delayed the parcel's delivery to me until just before my departure - too late to be shipped with the rest of my library. Just thinking about it brought me a measure of comfort – my library – meticulously accumulated in the years spent avoiding the ancestral home to which I was finally returning.

I had been at school in Oxford for many years pursuing studies in classics, Oriental cultures and finally law, before I had used up all excuses to remain at the University any longer. My mother, Esme, Lady Forksford, was insistent that I return to my family following the completion of my studies, and my father, Carlisle, Lord Forksford, always did everything in his power to see that her wishes became reality. I had finally run out of papers, dissertations and important scholarly gatherings to avoid my inevitable homecoming.

It not that I didn't enjoy my family or home in general; although my sister Alice felt that I tended to over analyze every detail of their individual personalities until I found some small thing to irritate me in any situation. But, this _unhappiness_ was not something I could pick apart because I didn't even know what _it_ was - just a feeling of being adrift - as if all my years of scholarship were pointless because I was just returning home to exist again as if I had never left. Back to being the extraneous nobleman's son and to days filled with endless rounds of entertaining, visiting, amusements, sporting and other idle amusements only to be followed by travelling to London to do more of the same for the Season.

The French had a term for this – ennui – soul-crushing boredom. That was what I envisioned for my future - inexorable as the rising tide. But it wasn't just boredom – it was aimlessness. I was the type of person who needed a goal – a purpose in life. Until now, I had been content to follow my intellectual curiosity from one discipline to the next. I had a passion for books, especially ancient texts on philosophy or the sciences from all cultures. I truly felt that I was living in the wrong time – I should have been a Roman patron of the arts, a Greek scholar or a philosopher from the Orient; and living in a society that held them in high standing.

But now I my life and scholarship was pointless. As the third son of the Baron of Forksford, I would not be expected to inherit my father's position and on my brothers' lives I would not want to. As a member of a noble family and the peerage, I could not really put to use the degrees I had earned either. My father would be an absolute laughingstock if it was known that his son had a profession. Young men of good families did _not_ toil. We idled away time wasting our inheritances on gambling, eating like gluttons, deflowering maidens or any other number of vices – anything but implying we had to work for our living.

And so here I was on a road to nowhere and with a sigh, I returned my attention to the parcel on my lap. Maybe the contents would distract me from the morose direction of my thoughts. I pulled a small knife from my travelling case and cut the string binding the paper parcel. Peeling back the layers, I finally found the contents – two more books to add to my collection from one of my regular booksellers; their new clerk must have misaddressed the parcel.

The first item from the parcel was a volume of tragedies from the Greek playwright Euripides. Generally, I didn't read fiction, but I did have a small selection of classical literature in my library. Satisfied, I set the volume aside to examine more closely when I read and catalogued it for my library.

The second volume looked a bit more promising; covered with a non-descript brown leather cover and a title page that read, _Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana_. A small thrill shot through me as I recognized the title… I'd _finally_ gotten it. My heart raced as I realized this volume was virtually unavailable in the Western world. It had only been recently translated from a series of manuscripts of famous Indian mystics and was printed privately for limited circulation.

It was purported to contain the secrets of man's sensual nature.

And as I thought the word _sensual_, an image of an exquisitely beautiful young lady came to mind. Long, pale blondish-pink hued curls, sparkling, bright blue eyes and full, pouty, rose-pink lips to start. Last time I'd seen her, I'd been shocked at how the sweetly pretty schoolgirl I recalled from my youth had matured into a strikingly lovely young woman.

I had been home for the holidays a year and a half ago at the annual Christmas gathering Esme held for our close friends. I was at the doorway greeting our guests when our family friends had arrived and I had not recognized her. In my confusion, I just stared speechless. Esme responded to my confusion with amusement, as she had prompted me, "Now Edward, surely you remember your former playmate, Tanya?" I don't remember how I replied, but I do remember kissing her hand and gazing into those enchanting blue eyes. I must have replied as a gentleman ought… somehow covering my gaff, because Tanya danced with me twice that night.

That, sadly, was the highlight of my sensual experience. It was not that I was unattracted or unattractive to women – quite the opposite I had come to find. I was tall… a couple inches over six feet… had green eyes and dark brown hair highlighted by a color the fashionable females of the family referred to as bronze. My facial features were even and unexceptionable but for one feature – my dratted lips. My older brothers liked to teasingly inquire why I had been out kissing asses – _bee_ _asses_ – due to the "bee-stung" appearance of my full lips. But, my lips also seemed to please females – at least I assumed so due to all the requests I had for "just one kiss" from all the _ladies_ that frequented the University thoroughfares late at night.

But I was not interested in kissing prostitutes or engaging in any other acts with them. I was raised a gentleman – to treat women of all stations with respect. That and the threat of losing my manhood to the vile diseases they carried.

Young ladies of my age and station were carefully chaperoned to protect their virginity, even if I would consider a dalliance with one of them. Again, very much against the gentleman's code. Of course, young ladies of other stations were available, especially if I wished to keep a mistress like many of my fellow students from wealthy families did, but I did not want the scandal that could arise from that type of situation to taint my families' honorable reputation.

But all of these reasons combined were not the true source of my hesitancy with women. Without doubt, the source of my discomfort sprang from the _older_ women.

Windowed, married, or even spinsters, they were shameless. This was one reason I tended to avoid large balls and other crowded social functions. It seemed these mature temptresses could always find a dark room or covert corner to pull me into for their attempted seductions. The disgraceful words that were whispered in my ear usually had the effect of scaring me more than titillating; although I had to admit that I have pictured some of the acts described… later... while alone with myself.

I did want to do those acts - very much - but not as lewd escapades, but as precious acts of love between a man and his wife.

So with a little knowledge imparted from those lusty ladies - however dubiously, I had sought out this reputed "sex manual." Once I had the book nestled on my lap, I had hoped would it teach me some of those sensual acts so I could perform with knowledge once I did have a wife. I wondered if just holding it in proximity to myself…

_Stop, Edward_, I commanded. I had grown quite erect at just thinking about the idea of sexual acts. _You don't want you trousers soiled further_.

After imagining the sour face my valet would produce when presented with unusually soiled clothing, I calmed down and gathered the courage to open the volume; guiltily excited to expose myself to the profane images. But I was surprised by the standard title page, preface and table of contents.

I did not want to lose my courage to continue, so I just skimmed the contents listed. The words 'sexual', 'wife, 'courtesans, and 'attracting' drew my eyes and started my heartbeat racing, but I calmed myself again and continued to the introduction.

The text started with history of how it was compiled from the writings of a series of Indian philosophers over time. As a student of ancient texts, I was impressed by how many different teachings had been captured and brought together to create a unified work. As a man, one part of the text spoke directly to my apprehensions.

_This work is not to be used merely as an instrument for satisfying our desires. A person acquainted with the true principles of this science, who preserves his Dharma (virtue or religious merit), his Artha (worldly wealth), and his Kama (pleasure or sexual gratification), and who has regard to the customs of the people, is sure to obtain the mastery over his senses. In short, an intelligent and knowing person attending to Dharma and Artha and also to Kama, without becoming the slave of his passions, will obtain success in everything that he may do._

The text seemed to commend the decisions I had previously made in regards to my sensual nature – that virtue, regard for custom and mastery of the senses would lead to success and fulfillment of desire. I had unconsciously worried that I would feel quite inadequate when confronted with a whole book full of practices of the sensual nature of which I knew nothing. But my hesitancy had been unnecessary.

As I noticed the coach slowing on our approach to my family lands, I closed the book without peeking ahead to the next few chapters. It would not do to be caught by my valet – or worse, one of my sisters – in an overexcited condition. No, that would not do for a man of my refined sensual instincts. I took several deep breathes, ran a hand through my hair and prepared for the worst.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Breakfast/Ride

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer. The Kama Sutra is part of the public domain. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

I paused on the threshold of the breakfast parlor to reconnoiter. Yes, I was using military terminology to describe a meal with my family and judging from the cacophony I could hear from down the hall; the warfare had started without me. The breakfast parlor faced south with a whole wall of windows that lit the room with gentle morning light and painted a deceptively genteel scene. Much of the room was occupied by a mahogany wood table selected for its elegance and solid construction by my mother. The accompanying chairs were almost all filled. After a brief survey, I counted only a few, familiar, guests mixed in with my assembled family members. Thankfully, only informal manners were required and I could put my full attention on slipping back into to the role of dutiful son and charming gentleman.

I preferred dining in quiet solitude.

My father was across the room at the head of the table, his graying blonde head nodding politely as he listened to something my brother's future mother-in-law, Mrs. Hale, was saying. Mrs. Hale, her husband and daughter were the guests I had identified; visiting in advance of the impending nuptials of my eldest brother, Emmett, to Miss Rosalie Hale. Emmett had been absolutely captivated by Miss Hale after meeting her by chance while riding in the park a few Seasons past. Although her family was from the banking trade and probably more interested in his expected inheritance of my father's title above all other considerations, Emmett was firm in his devotion to Rosalie. She would finally become his wife in a handful of weeks.

A shout of laugher from Emmett's place on the other side of Mrs. Hale drew my attention to them. Mrs. Hale seemed pleased to have made Emmett laugh. No doubt he had charmed his way into her esteem, Emmett was nothing if not charming. Much of the attention of the table seemed to be focused on the humorous conversation he was leading at that end of the table.

Loudly.

He was most often responsible for the general atmosphere of uproar at family meals although with our large family it could be difficult to pinpoint a culprit.

My younger twin brother and sister, Alec and Jane, were staring at the scene with their faces in identical grimaces. That was one of the usual expressions for both of them - grimaces, blank stares, disapproving frowns, and sanctimonious smiles. They filled the next two seats down that side of the table and were leaning as far away from Emmett as decorum would allow. Alec was studying to become a preacher and Jane was his main helpmate in the endeavor. Both spent most of their waking hours in study of the Bible and vehemently denouncing the wicked ways of Society. I noticed an empty chair next to Alec, but I would rather eat my breakfast from a seat on the floor than field his zealous inquiries to ascertain the state of my soul.

"Edward, you are here!" The loud chattering came to a pause as my sister Alice announced my presence to the assembled family. Alice was closest in age to me – just 18 months younger and my closest confidant among our siblings.

"I just knew today would be the day you would arrive," she crowed.

"Alice, I actually arrived last eve, after everyone had retired. I forgot you would be keeping country time. I did not want to disturb the household, so I supped alone in my room and retired in turn." And I was happy to do so, I generally took all my meals alone in my room at school; I preferred to read while I ate.

"I saved a seat for you next to me since I knew you would be here," she said, beckoning me to her side. She looked well in a pastel pink gown that complemented her fair complexion and dark brown hair styled in ringlets on either side of her face. "We should discuss your upcoming appointments in relation to the wedding so you can determine how to deal with the mountain of invitations awaiting you."

As I moved around the table in acquiesce, Esme grabbed my wrist. "What? No kiss for your mother?" I leaned down and kissed both her checks.

"My prodigal has finally returned."

"It's not like I was engaged in a life of vice, Mother. I was at school." I tried not to sigh as I defended my studies once again.

"Speaking of school, your younger brother will be following your footsteps and heading off to Cambridge this autumn," my father announced. I glanced down the table past my mother, Mr. Hale who was next to her, then Rosalie, to my youngest brother, Seth.

At fifteen, he was a picture of the carefree young man. I had noted a burgeoning interest in poetry from his last few dutiful letters - Byron and the Romance poets specifically - which was reflected by his unkempt dress and tousled brown hair. I moved down the table to the open seat between him and Alice.

"Seth, I believe I acquired a volume of Keats recently that you might like. Shall we see if my book crates have arrived after breakfast?"

"Truthfully, Edward, would you let me read it? I promise to take care of it."

I detected a bit of youthful admiration in his tone and felt warmed and surprised. I hadn't ever really gotten to know Seth since he was still in the nursery when I left for school.

"How would you like to have it for your own? Consider it the beginning to your scholar's library." The beaming smile from both him and my mother beyond was all the confirmation I needed. "I'll inquire about my books directly after breakfast."

I spent the rest of the meal listening to the ever changing plans for the wedding and a discussion my father and Emmett were having about the possibility of building a bridge over a small river that ran through our estate. Since I had some knowledge of engineering employed by the Romans Empire, I was drafted to join them later in the day to inspect the site.

After breakfast, my inquiry into the whereabouts of my books found them still enroute. I supposed I had passed the slower baggage carriage on the road. Seth and I determined that we would check each morning after breakfast for the crates so he did not have to wait for his volume. In the mean time, I was learning quite a bit of entertaining hearsay from him about the lives of his favorite poets, scandalous knaves all.

I returned to my room since I still had some time before we were riding out to the bridge site. The draw of the Kama Sutra was more than I could resist, so I decided that I would allow myself to read one more chapter, but would stop reading at the first sign of arousal. I did not need to deal with Emmett's ribbing due to an inconvenience of that nature today. He favored adolescent humor and would probably notice any signs of my discomfort.

But, my worry was all for naught. The next chapter discussed the nature of destiny and the will of man. This was a philosophical topic I had found across the writing of many cultures and I had determined that those which seemed to rely on destiny to decide their fate were often fatalistic, disappointed and doomed.

It seemed that during this period when I was facing the choice to he a man given to the vagaries of destiny or a man who would rule his destiny, this volume from across the sea was speaking directly to me. It counseled:

"_Those who believe that destiny is the prime mover of all things say: We should not exert ourselves to acquire wealth, for sometimes it is not acquired although we strive to get it, while at other times it comes to us of itself without any exertion on our part. Everything is therefore in the power of destiny, who is the lord of gain and loss, of success and defeat, of pleasure and pain. To answer [those to believe that destiny is the prime mover of all things], it is not right to say so. As the acquisition of every object presupposes at all events some exertion on the part of man, the application of proper means may be said to be the cause of gain all our ends, and this application of proper means being thus necessary (even where a thing is destined to happen), it follows that a person who does nothing will enjoy no happiness._

_From the Kama Sutra, Part 1, Chapter 2: On the Acquisition of Dharma, Artha and Kama_

If I followed its counsel, I ought to believe that I should actively work to influence my destiny. But what goal should I work for, what should I desire so that I might attain happiness? So many philosophers had asked this question and I could study their accumulated wisdom on the topic. It seemed that I had much more reading and reflection in my future to find the answer to that question.

I was very happy to set aside my book, change into my riding clothes and head to the stables meet my father and Emmett as agreed upon over breakfast. I needed some fresh air to clear my jumbled thoughts.

At the stables, I met my father and brother and mounted my horse, Veho, who I had chosen for his speed, rather than his beauty. He had an odd conformation with legs just a bit too long in contrast to his body. However, this trait only added to his speed, so I did not mind the occasional ribbing I took for the odd-looking horse.

We set out for an area on one of the corners of our property where a stream meandered through the pastures of grazing sheep and cattle. Normally the stream bubbled placidly along its way. However, heavy spring rains had created small, transient rivulets that merged to drain into the existing waterway and create a swift, dangerous river. Those rivulets spread over the lightly rutted landscape around us and I remembered the difficulties created by the spring rains on the roadways in previous years.

The planned bridge was to be built upon the roadway which we used to approach on horseback. The road served as one of the main routes to transport goods from many area estates to the main highway. A bridge would also save us the aggravation and boredom of being trapped on the estate without a passable road for the carriages.

In addition, the carters, who transported goods in their wagons, had complained to Carlisle that they were forced to travel several miles upstream to a point of safer crossing. He had listened to the complaints of these common men to the ridicule of some neighbors who thought of any improvements, especially those for the benefit of peasants, as "unnecessary" and "beneath their notice." However, my father always taken the well-being of our tenants as one of his top priorities in managing the estate - seeing their prosperity as key to that of our own family.

We quickly finished our survey and turned the horses back to the stables. I did not use the speed of Veho to return to the house any more quickly than the leisurely trot that Carlisle and Emmett had adopted. I knew what awaited me as my valet had mentioned "heaping piles" of correspondence before my departure – just as my sister Alice had predicted. I did not relish closing myself in at my desk to deal with that small mountain while the warm sun and fresh air of the countryside called me.

On impulse, I called to Carlisle and Emmett that I would see them back at the house and directed my horse towards a lane that lead through a hilly, picturesque part of our estate. With great joy, I gave my horse his head and we galloped across the hills and streams. I felt exhilarated at jumping over a stone strewn ditch although I hadn't exercised Veho like this in a while. Regardless of the fitness of my mount, I felt I could have raced on until reaching the distant ocean.

After losing myself in the wind blowing carefree through my hair and the speed of my mount, I decided that I would have to return and begin chipping away at that awaiting mountain of invitations. As I wheeled Veho around to return to the house, a flash of color caught the corner of my eye. It was something blue and it took me a moment to realize it was a nearby rider.

I nudged my horse in the direction of the rider realizing it must be one of our neighbors. _Tanya_, I thought causing small stirring in my loins. I urged my horse a bit faster, following the figure in blue. As I gave it closer attention, I could indeed see it was a female rider, but still could not make out who it might be from the distance. Her mount was not one that I was familiar with or had seen Tanya on in the past, but her family was wealthy enough to acquire new horses at anytime.

As I followed and watched, she remained unaware of my presence. I saw that she rode with abandonment similar to my own. Almost as if she wanted to remove the confining hat from her head and let her tresses fly through the air.

And as I watched, she raised her hands up to her head and did just that.

Immediately I realized this was not Tanya, for a glorious mane of rich brown hair unfurled behind her like a banner in the wind. The stirring I had felt in my groin grew as I watched the display in the distance. I started to feel guilty about my less than innocent voyeurism now that I knew this was a young lady not of my acquaintance.

I was still warring between my ingrained code of gentlemanly conduct and the pull of my base instincts, when I slowed my mount and turned his nose back towards home. I realized that my attentions would not be welcomed while she was so uninhibited in her enjoyment of the glorious early summer day. No lady would wish to be caught so by an unknown man.

When I returned to the house, it was just time for luncheon. However, all conversation was centered on wedding plans so I ate swiftly and excused myself and soon as decorum allowed. Following the meal, I went straight to my room, sat at the desk, and started on my correspondence.

Inevitably, I could not force myself to concentrate on the task at hand. I did not usually have an aversion to my correspondence, although it could be tiresome, but today, my thoughts were wandering – and lingering - on the vision in blue from earlier. She captured such a reflection of my own feelings; the joy of the fresh country air, the exhilaration of a brisk ride, the freedom from worldly cares. While I was being honest with myself, I also immensely enjoyed the rare glimpse of the passionate side of the female nature.

Frustrated, I turned back to the scattered sheaves before me. I realized from what little attention I'd paid to my invitations and the level of distraction I'd allowed myself to fall into, I would need to seek Alice's assistance if I was ever going to make it through the mess of parchment. Alice would know which invitations would be best for me to accept and what activities were already planned in addition to those she had alluded to at breakfast.

I gathered my pile and left my room purposely. I padded down the carpeted hallway into the solar where the ladies usually spent the afternoon taking tea, sewing, and tending to their own correspondence. The solar, in the same fashion as the breakfast parlor, faced south with a whole wall of windows that let in the maximum amount of light. The room was decorated in soft peach tones with muted dark green accents inspired on my mother's favorite coral colored rose bush from the gardens. Flowers, that were refreshed every morning, were arranged in small bouquets throughout the room, no doubt at the direction of Alice or my mother.

I could smell the faint sweet aroma of lilies and roses as I entered the room to find them both at their leisure. Alice appeared to be browsing one of the many fashion plates displaying the latest designs from Paris. She had them specially imported each month so that she could keep up on the latest styles even though our family spent most of the year at our country home. My mother was also reading, although she preferred her home decorating subscriptions.

I stood at the door and watched the homey scene; smiling unconscientiously. Being back with my family was a surprising source of joy. I had become quite used to my own company as a scholar, but was starting to see some of the merits of the Cullen clan.

Alice lifted her head to make a comment to Esme about one of the gowns featured in the plate upon her lap when she took notice of my presence.

"Oh, Edward, have you been there long? Is anything amiss?" she queried.

"No Alice, well…not really amiss, but I could use your assistance." I hinted, stepping into the room.

She patted a spot on the sofa next to her and I sat down spreading my armful of invitations on the low table in front of us. "As you can see, I need your help with this mountain," I sighed. Alice's eyes sparkled with humor as her grin widened.

"Edward, I've already assisted Jasper with the same task just this morning although he isn't even home yet. No doubt your invitations are almost exactly identical," she teased. "Rumors about the return of both of you have been flying around the county for weeks. Let me just sort these into a few smaller piles for your review. But don't expect me to pen any replies. I am certain many young ladies are awaiting a reply in your hand to clutch to their bosom, sigh your name over and trace your pen with their fingertips," she scolded in fun.

I snorted in reply, knowing that Alice exaggerated my popularity. Although, it did seem that my pile of invitations was quite a bit larger than what I usually dealt with when I returned home. It could be that now I had finally finished my education, marriage-minded mothers now saw me as catch for their daughters. I'm sure I would be in Alice's debt for helping me to deal with the increased and unwelcome popularity. With a dramatic sigh, I picked up my pen and started my replies.


End file.
